


Date Night

by passionslipsaway



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling, F/M, Financial Issues, Flashbacks, Mild Sexual Content, Nobody Dies because I said so, Post-Canon Fix-It, Tenderness, like super mild, they're anxious babies but they'll be alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 03:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20557724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passionslipsaway/pseuds/passionslipsaway
Summary: Amid work, work, and more work, it's the one night Orpheus and Eurydice set aside just for themselves, but money troubles throw a wrench in this month's Date Night plans.





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> oof this one was a doozy. school's started so this'll prolly be my last fic for a bit. enjoy!

It was the one night of the month—or every two months, depending on their savings, the recent harvest, and how many shifts they managed at the bar—that Orpheus and Eurydice reserved just for themselves. They'd take the evening off of work, Orpheus leaving the music to the regular band and Eurydice letting Hermes take the bar, and hurry home early. There, the lovers would scrape together the best of the food they saved for that month, sparing no scrap, and cook a meal that was at least marginally more impressive than their usual dinners of leftovers or bar food. While whatever they made cooled, they’d take to separate parts of the house, Orpheus squeezing into the small bathroom while Eurydice took the spot by their bed, and surprise each other by dressing as nicely as they could—a shirt and vest without holes or stains for Orpheus and a dress of some kind for Eurydice. 

As soon as they were ready, they’d sit down to dinner together—eating at their dining room table, not on their bed as they normally did—light a single candle and enjoy their night off. Usually, Eurydice propped her legs in her husbands’ lap underneath the table as they ate, and he occasionally fed her forkfuls off his plate, even if it was the same as what was on her own. Sometimes, if they had wine, they’d slow dance in the space between their bed and their dining table and kitchen, swaying to a song Orpheus hummed, until their dancing devolved into kissing and giggling. Always, they’d end up tangled in bed together, fancy clothes in rumpled piles on the floor. Date Night, as they called it, was just for them, and they both more than looked forward to it.

The past few months had not been the easiest for the lovers. Since returning from Hadestown over a year ago, Orpheus and Eurydice had started building a life from the ground up. That had been mostly fine for the time being, as they both worked and pooled their money to save for a proper wedding. Now, they were living without what they had spent on that wedding, which had been expensive for them no matter how simple the ceremony. The couple hadn’t even taken a honeymoon afterwards, not able to afford more than a day or two away.

To make ends meet, they had both gone back to working double shifts at the bar almost daily. Eurydice worked the mornings and into the afternoons, with Orpheus joining her as business picked up in the evening. Orpheus still played his nightly sets, which Eurydice often stuck around to watch. Technically, they spent most of their time together, but they had only the early mornings and a few late nights alone, and Eurydice figured they both deserved a full evening to themselves.

So, right now, Eurydice should be pulling on the nicest dress she owned—aside from her wedding dress, which she had technically borrowed from a boutique and not yet returned, so it didn’t count, not really—brushing her hair, and getting ready to make up for lost time with her husband. She should be with Orpheus in the kitchen, teasing him about how much seasoning he was adding to the chicken they were about to place in the oven. She and Orpheus should be carefully setting the table, picking their dirty clothes up off the floor, and making their bed, so that, at least for one night, they could pretend like they were a couple that had it all together. She should be seated in front of the small mirror propped up near their bed, dabbing her eyes with the black makeup she’d always worn for special occasions, thinking of all the things her poet would do to her in a few hours’ time. Eurydice should be preparing for the one night she got to forget how hard times could still be for folks like her and Orpheus.

Instead, she was fuming at a note she had found on their nightstand earlier that evening when she returned from work.

_Eurydice, my love,_

_I’m needed at the bar tonight. Mr. Hermes has requested I play for some very important guests who have decided to stop by unexpectedly. I know tonight is our night, and it still is, as always, but I will not be home until late. Every moment I am here, I will be thinking only of you. Please, eat what we have and do get some rest. I will make it up to you, I promise._

_Your husband,_

_Orpheus._

Eurydice sat on their bed, the note half crumpled in her hand. _How could he?_ Orpheus already played at the bar almost every evening, earning what he could, which was usually enough. He always charmed the patrons, and the easier times got, the more people with money were willing to fork over cash for a song. And they had done fine this month, she knew that. Maybe not as well as they could have, but they were on track to pay off what they owed, and they certainly did not need to skip their one guaranteed night together for a bit of extra money. Why couldn’t he have said no? Why _didn’t_ he say no?

She clenched her jaw. Orpheus loved Date Night. In fact, it had been his idea from the start, when they were saving up for their wedding and realized they saw each other more at work than they did at home. And Orpheus loved her; she knew that, too. It didn’t make any sense.

Eurydice felt the sinking feeling in her stomach before the Fates even arrived.

_“Where’s your lover?” _Clotho sneered.

_“Isn’t this your special night?”_ her sister Lachesis followed.

_“Why would he change his mind?” _Atropos, the oldest, taunted.

Eurydice felt nauseated. She kept her eyes closed, knees drawn up to her chest, not wanting to pay them any mind. The Fates had tormented into leaving for Hadestown, and they had continued to plague her even after her return and during her engagement to Orpheus, too, always reminding her that a life with the poet had no guarantees. She supposed they weren’t wrong in that regard. But she loved Orpheus, and although this sudden change of plans upset her, it wasn’t out of the realm of normality. Eurydice had to remember that.

“_Wouldn’t be the first time he’s abandoned you_,” Clotho reminded her, and the other two snickered.

Making an irritated noise, Eurydice banished them from thought. She was being ridiculous. Her husband wasn’t abandoning her. She knew that he loved her—he’d proved that, over and over. Still, reading his note, it felt as if he didn’t understand how important this was for them, for her. And, as much as the Fates exaggerated, the fact that Orpheus had put his music ahead of her before didn’t help calm her fear that maybe he was doing that again now. 

Eurydice shook her head to clear her mind and cast a glance around their small home. The place had been Orpheus’ when they first met—it was where he moved after he’d stopped living with Hermes above the bar. Eurydice, as she had done with most of her previous lovers, had taken to staying with him. After Hadestown, when the two promised to always walk beside each other, the house became Eurydice’s home, too.

Now, their one room was filled with the clutter of the couple’s hectic lives. One of Orpheus’ work aprons hung off the back of a kitchen chair, a pair of Eurydice’s jeans that she was pretty sure hadn’t been washed in weeks was shoved under the table, and scattered papers, sheet music, and mail covered almost every flat surface. Despite this mess, they still didn’t have much in the way of material things. Their bed was merely a mattress shoved against a wall. The little furniture they did have didn’t match; most of it had been found secondhand. Even their sheets and pillows originated from different sets—stripes, floral prints, and paisley mixed together. Many of their decorations—the flower pot on their windowsill, the collection of painted jars on the dining table, mismatched decorative towels—had either been wedding gifts or things Eurydice had stolen from the market. It wasn’t as if she particularly enjoyed taking what wasn’t hers, and Orpheus certainly didn’t approve, but it was a habit, a holdover from her past that she couldn’t quite get rid of.

“_What kind of man lets his wife live in such a place?_” Atropos asked, suddenly reappearing.

“_Perhaps the same kind who forgets to take off work the one night he’s supposed to,_” Lachesis replied. 

“Shut up!” Eurydice groaned out loud and sighed, forgetting there wasn’t really anyone there. 

She knew eventually they’d need a bigger space, or at least a real bed, but it’d be a long time until they could afford either of those things. Even so, Eurydice loved the life she and her husband had created together. Sure, they would probably always want for more, but that was the world they lived in. She had her poet, a belly full of food, and a place to rest her head—that’s what mattered most to her. 

Finally, Eurydice’s gaze landed on the bottle of wine on their kitchen counter, a gift from Persephone earlier that month. Ever since the goddess had overheard the lovers discussing plans for their night together, she had taken to gifting them wine or food (usually wine) every few weeks. Not ones to turn down any bit of charity, they always accepted whatever Persephone gave them.

Normally, Eurydice didn’t drink without Orpheus there. She had no reason to. They only drank together or with Persephone during one of her parties when they could enjoy their mutual drunkenness. Eurydice smiled, suddenly hit with a memory of her and Orpheus, early in their relationship, before Hadestown, dancing clumsily with each other outside the bar with the other patrons.

*** 

_They had been dancing for what felt like the whole night. Orpheus had finished his set a few hours ago, and the bar’s regular musicians had started playing again. The poet took that opportunity to ask the pretty young girl across the bar to dance. That had been their almost nightly routine since Eurydice stumbled into town and, more recently, into Orpheus’ bed._

_Orpheus was awkward and accident-prone even when completely sober, as Eurydice had come to realize—it was up to her to keep him on his feet. Problem was, she was just as drunk as her lover, and although Eurydice was normally a more than capable dancer, that didn’t matter when Persephone was handing the couple cup after cup of her wine—what the hell was even in that stuff—_

_“Ow! You’re stepping on my feet,” Orpheus yelped and laughed nervously, bringing Eurydice’s attention back to their dance. His brow was furrowed in concentration, trying to keep in time with the music but failing every few steps._

_Eurydice giggled. “Am not.”_

_“Are too—ouch! Eurydice! I think that was on purpose,” Orpheus said, even though it hadn’t hurt at all. They were both laughing now, Eurydice leaning on Orpheus more than necessary._

_“Sorry, lover,” she teased, drawing out the second word and loving how it made him blush. She giggled again at that._

_“You have a beautiful laugh. And smile,” Orpheus rushed out, beaming at her. It was true—Eurydice’s laugh had quickly become one of the poet’s favorite noises and he did whatever he could to hear it, to say nothing of how it caused her dark eyes to light up and cheeks to dimple. He couldn’t help but feel she ought to know._

_Eurydice blinked. She hadn’t expected to hear that at all. If it was anyone else, she’d have brushed the compliment off as a drunken ramble, but Orpheus’ eyes were honest, as always. A small part of her wanted to whisper, “So do you.”_

_Instead, she rolled her eyes, though she could feel herself blushing, “You’re drunk, Poet.”_

_“Hmm, yes,” he admitted, “but it doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” He was still smiling a lopsided grin that made Eurydice’s stomach feel funny in a way she couldn’t blame on the wine._

_For the past few weeks, Eurydice had been enjoying her time—what some folks would call a fling—with Orpheus. He really wasn’t like anyone she had ever met before. He had come on a little strong, yes, but he held nothing but goodness inside, she could tell that much. He wore his heart on his sleeve and said exactly what he was thinking, even if it could get him into trouble. Most of all, he was gentle with her in a way that didn’t make her feel fragile, but instead like she almost deserved that sort of kindness. Eurydice couldn’t deny that she’d felt more hopeful this summer than she had in a long time._

_It wasn’t long before she realized she was in trouble. Whenever she caught her poet smiling at her from the stage or saw him across the bar, Eurydice felt her heart seize and, unfortunately, that probably meant something. At first, she’d chalked it all up to the mix of the alcohol, the sunshine, and the thrill of a new relationship. But now, her budding feelings towards Orpheus presented a problem. The fact remained that he was still very much naïve and very much penniless. Besides, Eurydice didn’t do long-term, she didn’t get attached, she didn’t stay. Even through her drunkenness, a voice reminded her how easily people turn, just like the wind._

_An equally insistent voice also reminded her that if she really wanted to, she could have left by now. That she probably _should_ have left by now. And yet she’d stayed._

_“Here, put your feet on mine,” Orpheus suggested, breaking Eurydice out of her thoughts, “We’ll dance like that. It’ll be easier, promise.”_

_“If you say so,” she conceded, though she felt her nonchalance slipping. Eurydice realized now that the band had switched to a slower tempo song, and many of the other patrons had paired off to dance. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hermes and Persephone swaying together, the goddess’ body mostly slumped over and her wild hair flowing over Hermes’ back as he supported them both._

_Orpheus moved his hands from where they were holding Eurydice’s and placed them on her waist. Gently, careful not to press too hard, she put her feet over his and slung her arms around his neck, his hands balancing her. When she looked up again, their noses brushed. Last night, and many nights before, Eurydice had shared a bed with Orpheus, touched him and let him touch her. Somehow, this was startlingly more intimate._

_“This feels… odd,” Eurydice whispered, giggling nervously as he moved them slowly side to side. Much of the self-assured confidence she’d had earlier was melting away._

_“I kind of like it, with you so close,” he said softly, undeterred. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, but she didn’t mind it. “It’s how Lady Persephone taught me to dance. And, hmm… you’re too drunk to be trusted otherwise. Unless you’d rather stop—"_

_“No, no,” she said quickly. She resisted the urge to wince at the panic in her own voice—she needed to get a grip. “It’s just… different. I’ve never danced with anyone like this before. `M glad I have you to keep me safe.” Eurydice hummed, finding that she meant it._

_"You do. I’m… I’m gonna hold you forever, Eurydice,” he said urgently and pulled her close, almost too tightly. She rested her cheek against Orpheus’ chest. Her head under his chin felt like the most natural thing in the world. “This won’t ever change, as long as you still want it. I swear, I promise.”_

_Quietly, so that Eurydice was certain only the two of them would hear, she breathed into his chest, “You really promise?”_

_“I do.”_

_He said it so often that Eurydice began to believe him, just the same as when he told her that her smile made flowers bloom or claimed he could bring the springtime back. Orpheus made everything seem possible, and gods, Eurydice could stand to hope._

_T_ _he band struck up a new tune, this one fast and lively. Eurydice pulled back from Orpheus, and they both broke out into a smile._

_“Come on!” She exclaimed, grabbing his hand and pulling them towards the crowd forming near the stage where everyone else had gone to dance together. Orpheus laughed, stumbling slightly as he followed his lover into the fray._

_Maybe, just maybe, this time Eurydice would stay._

***

The memory faded, and Eurydice was left in the present, a slight smile on her face.

_Well, no sense in letting that go to waste, _she thought, pushing herself up off the bed and towards the counter to pour a cup. After all, it was already a bit late, and Orpheus wouldn’t be home until much later, according to his note. She could entertain herself for the night. 

Wine in hand, Eurydice shuffled over to the small stack of books they kept in a corner underneath the window. Most of them were just what Orpheus had collected from Hermes and others throughout his life, and the two of them had so few possessions that they saw no good reason to throw these tattered books away. Besides, Eurydice had taken a liking to reading in her spare time. She selected what appeared to be a trashy romance novel, which made her raise her eyebrows. Why Orpheus had this, and why Hermes had most likely given it to him, Eurydice would have to inquire about later. She just needed something to keep herself entertained until her husband returned.

She sat cross-legged on one of their dining chairs and began thumbing through the book, letting her eyes skim over the pages as she sipped her wine. Eurydice normally didn’t care for romantic stories. Even when she was younger, she found them cheap, and the endings were all the same—a wedding. She wanted excitement. When Eurydice left the forest and spent months, years, on her own, she learned how cruel the world and its men could be. After that, all she wanted was the safety of a bed and a meal. Love was superfluous. 

Orpheus, she knew, adored romance. It was no surprise he was able to mend Hades and Persephone’s broken relationship with a song—her husband understood love better than anyone, as far as Eurydice was concerned. It was evident in his poems, songs, and the way he loved her with his whole heart. Orpheus was generous with his “I love you”s—whether they were standing in line on a sunny day at the market or one of them was climbing into bed after having gotten home late from work. It meant the world to her, every time.

Eurydice wasn’t a romantic, not like Orpheus, but she loved her poet. When their relationship was still new, she had trouble expressing that in ways other than a searing kiss or grinding hips. She knew Orpheus didn’t mind—the fact that she trusted him to lead them out of Hadestown and had chosen to spend the rest of her life with him afterwards was confirmation enough that she truly did love him. And she understood him, as he did her. Eurydice could tell when the buzz of the market became too much, the crowds at the bar too rowdy, or when he needed her to communicate her feelings to him in a way he understood better. She was working towards saying it out loud more often and knew that would come in time. But Orpheus knew how she felt, and that’s what mattered.

Eurydice skimmed along, paying only minimal attention to the plot and characters. She was slightly intrigued by the overly-detailed love scenes, wrinkling her nose at the seemingly endless arsenal of euphemisms the author had about human anatomy. This was certainly why she preferred her adventure books or stories about the gods. She was slowly coming up on the ending, a wedding in sight for the two protagonists. She took another sip of her wine. It occurred to her, and she would place what little money they had on it, that this book was probably a gift from Persephone to Hermes, and that he had desperately wanted to get rid of it.

Turning a page, Eurydice’s own wedding band caught the light. It was a simple, metal band, not made out of anything precious like silver, but rather of something sturdier—she wasn’t quite sure what, though. Orpheus had given it to her in the weeks leading up to their wedding. It was all they could afford at the time, and though he had promised her a second, more elaborate ring someday, Eurydice knew that someday would be long in coming—they’d spent whatever money they’d have used for that on the ceremony itself or saved it for the upcoming winter. That was fine with her. She didn’t need gold, silver, or gemstones—just something to show she and her poet belonged to each other. This fit in better with her other rings, anyway, and it served its purpose.

Watching the light glint off of the ring, she was reminded of Orpheus’ first, formal, post-Hadestown proposal. It had not been traditional in the slightest, but neither had almost anything else about their lives.

***

_Orpheus hadn’t been exaggerating about the length of the walk back from Hadestown. It was a long walk, a long road. After they had successfully made it out of the Underworld, after Orpheus had managed not to give into doubt, Eurydice had all but collapsed against him, overwhelmed by relief and love for her poet, who had saved her. Still, they had a ways to go yet, and she drifted in and out of reality for much of it, her hold on his arm anchoring her more than anything else. As they walked, now side by side, Orpheus sang on and off. He was doing it mostly to comfort himself, she assumed, but it kept Eurydice grounded, too. At more than one instance, it struck her that he had walked this length twice now, just for her. To bring her back._

_A few hours later, they were back safely in Orpheus’ home—their home, now, she supposed. Almost as soon as the poet had set his lyre down, Eurydice wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her mouth to his. Together, they toppled onto their shared bed._

_It wasn’t long before Eurydice was straddling Orpheus’ hips, both of them reveling in the feeling of being joined again after so long apart. She still couldn’t believe they were alive, that both of them were here, that— _

_“Marry me,” he gasped suddenly, “For certain this time.” _

_Eurydice sucked in a breath. “Orpheus...” she warned, not wanting to have this conversation right now. The walk home had been mostly silent, and she would prefer if things stayed that way. Eurydice had already felt far more in the past day than she could handle, emotionally. She needed some kind of physical release, not an intense conversation about her future so soon after she’d nearly lost it completely. Not yet._

_“Eurydice.” he responded, his grip on her hips tightening. Despite the strain in his voice, she could tell he was completely earnest._

_She didn’t want to think of marriage right now, or anything else for that matter, not when the only thing that made sense to her in the world was Orpheus inside of her. Eurydice opened her eyes, and there he was, looking at her expectantly, as if all that existed between them was his proposal. _

_She didn’t say anything at that point—not with words—she only gasped and cried out when she couldn’t hold on any longer, prompting him to do the same. They peaked and came down together, and, shortly afterwards, lay side by side on their bare mattress on the floor, the heap of blankets having long since been shoved aside. _

_“Well?” Orpheus asked after their breathing slowed, tracing a finger around her ear and down her jaw, “Was that a ‘yes?’”_

_“It’s a maybe.” _

_“Hmm, didn’t sound like a maybe to me,” he teased, tucking some hair behind her ear. _

_Eurydice rolled her eyes. She had taught him too well. “It’s a ‘let’s make sure we can even afford to get married in the first place before we jump into this headfirst,’ okay?”_

_He furrowed his brow, “What do we need to afford? A ring each, maybe some food and wine, and Lady Persephone can help with—"_

_She interrupted him, shaking her head. “It’s not just the wedding I’m worried about, Orpheus. It’s our future.” Eurydice placed her hand on his cheek and ran her thumb over the skin before she continued, “I don’t need a ring or a fancy ceremony. I could call myself your wife right now, and that’d be good enough. But we have to be able to provide for ourselves—a steady income, enough food to get through the winter, plans if something happens to one of us—" She had been so caught up in the euphoria of being alive again and now the anxiety of everything they still had to face was bubbling up inside her._

_“Eurydice, love, you’re jumping too far ahead, that’s not—" he went to take her hands, and she stopped him, sitting up suddenly._

_“I love you, Orpheus, with all my heart, I do, but—" She paused, momentarily seized by the gravity of that statement. When was the last time she’d said that? Before Hadestown? Had she ever even said it out loud for him to hear? Oh gods. Eurydice swallowed hard and wrapped her arms around herself, “But just because the springtime has returned doesn’t mean everything will fall back into place at once. The world has been out of tune for decades—centuries—and no one knows what will happen next and we have to prepare for—"_

_“We will,” it was Orpheus’ turn to interrupt, and he sat up beside her, placing a hand on her back. He sighed. “I know you’re scared. I know that’s what made you leave for...for...” he found himself unable to say it out loud, it was all still so raw, “But it won’t happen again. I’m makin’ a promise to you, right now, it won’t.”_

_Eurydice turned to him, unwrapping her arms from her middle and letting him take her hands this time. She tried not to look at the scrapes, bruises, and bits of dried blood on his bare arms and chest._

_“Like I said before,” he continued, studying her fingers held within his own, “I can’t promise that things will always be easy, and I can’t promise that we won’t struggle. But this time, no one is going to do it alone. We’ll talk to each other, and I won’t let myself become so caught up in… well, so caught up in my head that I can’t see what’s going on right in front of me. Whatever happens, I’ll be right there beside you. After all, we made it out of the Underworld alive.” Orpheus beamed at her, clear and bright as sunlight. “Together, I don’t think there’s anything we can’t do.” _

_They _had_ made it out, Eurydice thought, letting the realization that they were both somehow alive hit her again. It all seemed so impossible. Maybe that’s why she was hesitant to run headfirst into their new life together. She knew he was right, though, and that she was only allowing that same fear that had driven her to Hadestown get the best of her again. Things were different now._

_He must have sensed her considering, because he prompted again, “So, what do you think? Marry me?”_

_“Hmm.” Eurydice hummed. “I might need just a little more… convincing.” She turned her head to the side in a gesture that was meant to be saucy, but that intention was mostly lost on her poet, because instead of looking pleased, Orpheus suddenly looked concerned. _

_His words spilled over in a rush. “Um, well, I was also planning on picking up extra shifts at the bar, and Mr. Hermes said I could start playing for actual money, so that should help—"_

_She closed her eyes and kissed him, cutting him off. He made a surprised noise in response but let himself be kissed by her anyway. When they broke apart, Eurydice looked at him expectantly._

_“Oh… Right. That kind of convincing.” Orpheus laughed nervously, placing his hands on her waist, “I thought you meant—"_

_“I know,” she said, cupping his face with both hands and pushing a few locks of hair off his forehead. He smiled shyly. “It’s okay.”_

_For once, Orpheus had no response, and so was quiet as he laid his soon-to-be wife out on their shared bed. He pressed his lips to her neck, her chest, and down her stomach._

_Watching him, Eurydice breathed, “Gods, you really aren’t like any other man I’ve met.”_

_He looked up at her and smirked before dipping his head._

***

Eurydice hadn’t meant to drink the entire bottle of wine. She really hadn’t. She didn’t even want to. But once she started, she kept thinking how much more enjoyable her night would be if she was just the slightest bit tipsier. Until tipsy turned into drunk, and drunk turned to stumbling around their living space, humming a song to herself, having cast the book she was reading aside half an hour ago, bored and too intoxicated to focus on its pages any further.

As she was ambling about, her bare foot kicked something small that had been lying on the ground, causing it to skid across the rug under the square dining table. Their home was in such a state of disarray, it could have been anything. Curious, she clumsily got down on her knees and picked up what she recognized as Orpheus’ notebook.

Usually, her poet shared most of his new projects with Eurydice, running lyrics and melodies by her, seeing which ones she enjoyed most. He wasn’t private about his work and often let his wife flip through his notebook when she asked to. In return, Eurydice recounted the plots of the most recent book she’d read to Orpheus. Although he didn’t read much himself, Orpheus loved being told stories. Eurydice assumed it was a holdover from his childhood with Hermes, master storyteller that the god was.

But without a lot of alone time together in the past few weeks, Eurydice hadn’t seen what Orpheus was working on. She decided to thumb through its pages, figuring he wouldn’t mind.

She went to sit down cross-legged on their carpet, stumbling slightly on the way down. Eurydice giggled to herself and tried not to pay attention to how the room continued to spin despite her being completely still. She studied the empty bottle in her hand. Realistically, she knew this wasn’t much of a problem. If she crawled into bed before Orpheus got home, he might not even notice anything had happened, and hopefully, he wouldn’t worry. She’d have to deal with a horrible headache at work tomorrow, but Eurydice figured that’s what she got for being so careless. She was definitely never doing this again. 

With one hand, she flipped through the pages of her husband’s notebook, pausing on each one to trace the imprints his scrawled handwriting made on the page. Most of them were songs or poems Eurydice had read before. Many of them were about her. Her favorites, however, were those Orpheus had written when they had just met, when their love was still new, and they were both overwhelmed with what they felt for each other. Not to say they weren’t still overwhelmed now, sometimes—Eurydice certainly was—but it was more of a familiar ache. 

Smiling, she remembered the last time she had read to him from one of her books. It had been a late night, not unlike this one, and not too long ago, either.

***

_It was late, long after midnight according to the clock on their wall, which most likely was broken. Eurydice had always been a night owl, and working late at the bar only served to perpetuate that, but even she should have been asleep by now. Instead, she had decided to wait up for her husband. Orpheus had just returned from the bar, having stayed longer than usual to help close after playing that night. His feet burned from standing for hours and his eyes drooped closed on the walk home, but when he saw Eurydice curled up in their bed with a book, Orpheus couldn’t have been happier. He also couldn’t resist indulging her request to stay up and listen to her read aloud._

_After kissing his wife in greeting, Orpheus redressed in a thin shirt and sweatpants that served as a pair of pajamas and joined Eurydice in their bed. He settled into her side, snuggling close and pulling up the mismatched sheets around them. Without a couch or any real seating, their bed was the place the lovers spent most of their time at home together, and they’d collected an array of different pillows and blankets to make it as comfortable as possible. Right now, Eurydice rested against a red and white striped pillow. On Orpheus’ side lay one of the same size that bore a paisley pattern._

_Eurydice leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “Comfy?” she asked, smoothing his hair. He stilled smelled like the bar, which was to say smoke and a hint of moonshine. Tomorrow morning, when they woke up, she’d run them both a bath—they could use it._

_Orpheus hummed, smiling. “What’re you reading now? Did you finish your other book?”_

_“I did. Things were slow at work this afternoon and I had time to read.” She flashed the thick book she was holding in front of Orpheus, turning it around so he could see the woven cover, which simply said _Myths _in golden print. With mock bravado, she continued, “Tonight, for your listening pleasure, we have the story of Hero and Leander.”_

_The poet perked up immediately. “Mr. Hermes used to tell this one all the time!”_

_“Well, I’m no Mr. Hermes—” Eurydice began._

_“No. You’re better,” he cut in. As if the statement would somehow make its way back to the god, Orpheus quickly amended, “Well, you’re different. Mr. Hermes tells the tales how he wants, how he remembers. You read them as they were written. I like it, though, hearing it in your voice.”_

_She smiled. “I do my best.” She then flicked through the book’s pages to get to the poem’s beginning and started to read, feeling her husband relax into her._

_Orpheus must have heard all of these stories a thousand times over, but he didn’t seem to mind listening to them again and again. In fact, Eurydice had noticed he preferred the familiar myths about the gods, the ones that Hermes would have told him during his childhood, to the adventure books she sometimes read instead. Growing up in the forest, Eurydice had learned many of the same stories Orpheus had, but unlike him, she was not raised by a god, who almost certainly had his own interpretation of every myth he told._

_Eurydice reached the end of the poem, Hero and Leander’s fates sealed._

_“Oh.” Orpheus frowned._

_Eurydice turned to him, “Hmm?”_

_“Well, the way Hermes tells it,” he started, sitting up slightly, “Leander decides to swim across the straits despite the storm to Hero on his own accord. Here, Hero sends him a letter, asking him to come. Why would she want her lover to risk his life?”_

_“Maybe she didn’t know how dangerous it could be,” Eurydice offered._

_“Maybe,” Orpheus was thoughtful for a moment, “Maybe he would have gone anyway, even if she hadn’t asked.”_

_Eurydice wrinkled her nose, “I don’t see why they couldn’t have waited until after the storm passed. No one had to die.” Having closed the book, she ran her thumb along the detailed spine. Her other hand played with Orpheus’ hair absently. _

_“Leander was blinded by his love for Hero.” Orpheus reasoned, his eyes soft and tone wistful. “He’d have done anything to get to her. He couldn’t bear being apart from his lover, even for a night.”_

_ “You’re such a romantic,” she teased and tapped the tip of his nose. He scrunched up his face and smiled in response. Then, he took her hand, threading their fingers together._

_“Well, I have you to keep my feet on the ground,” Orpheus said, the end of his sentence tapering off into a yawn, head still leaning on Eurydice’s shoulder. “Though I’d still swim across the sea in a storm, just to get to you.”_

_She kissed the top of his head again and whispered into his hair, “I think you’ve proven yourself well enough already.”_

_Eurydice felt Orpheus nod, wordlessly, and the two were silent. Though they had both come to terms with what happened over a year ago in Hadestown, it didn’t mean it wasn’t painful for them both. They tried to focus on the future as best they could, even though the future wasn’t certain, either._

_Needing to change the subject, Eurydice asked, “How did we do this week? With money, I mean.”_

_Orpheus yawned again, and rubbed his eyes, “We did alright, I think. I haven’t counted the tips I made tonight, but customers get more generous as they get drunker, and Persephone helps with the second part.”_

_Eurydice smiled. “If that’s true, then I think we’ll have what we need this month, maybe a little extra.” She hummed, stroking her poet’s hair._

_“Hmm, we could put it towards Date Night” Orpheus suggested, “we haven’t had one in a bit, and I could ask Hermes for the night off.”_

_“That’s what I was thinking,” Eurydice said._

_After a few moments of silence, Eurydice said, “I’d do the same for you now, you know.”_

_Orpheus, more awake now, looked up at her, his expression a combination of confusion and concern. “What do you mean?”_

_“I’d save you.” She said, smiling slightly. Orpheus sat up. Eurydice continued, “Swim across oceans, climb mountains, walk through the forest on the darkest day of the year. For you.”_

What had brought this on?_ Orpheus’ brow furrowed and he shook his head, “Eurydice, you wouldn’t have to. I’d never put you through that—”_

_“I know you wouldn’t,” she rubbed circles over the back of his hand, their fingers still laced together. “But I want you to know that I would do it. I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, Orpheus. I love you, even if I don’t always say it when I should.” The last part came out as a whisper._

_Orpheus’ expression softened and he pulled Eurydice in for a kiss, not able to help how happy it made him to hear that. It wasn’t often she made such clear declarations of love, not with words. Orpheus, of course, knew his wife, and he knew that she loved him very much. Still, the fact that usually she expressed that love in other ways made what she was saying now even more significant._

_After a few moments, he broke them apart. Their faces still close together, noses touching, he said, “I love you too, Eurydice. Even if I say it every hour of every day. I mean it, always.”_

_At that, it was her turn to kiss him. Eurydice set the book of myths aside to hold Orpheus’ face in her hands, running her thumbs over his cheekbones. Almost out of habit, Orpheus placed his hands on Eurydice’s hips, and she deepened the kiss._

_Normally, Eurydice knew, this would have led to something more. Normally, she would have slipped her hands under Orpheus’ t-shirt as he tugged at her pajama bottoms—which he was pretty sure were just a pair of his underwear she’d taken to wearing—and they’d have made the most of their time between now and when they inevitably had to sleep before leaving for work the next morning._

_But Eurydice could feel her husband’s exhaustion, as well as her own. Before she could say anything, Orpheus pulled back and spoke: “I’d love to do this, any other night, but—”_

_“But you just worked for seven hours and played for another two and you’re tired?” she grinned at him, stilling holding his face in her hands. He nodded. “Yeah, I figured. I’m tired, too. It’s okay.”_

_Orpheus turned and kissed the palm of her hand. “We have time,” he reminded her._

_“We do,” she replied, settling them both back into the bed._

_Eurydice let Orpheus rest himself against her chest and tangled their legs together. She kissed the hair at the top of his head one last time and felt one of his arms curl around her waist. She knew they didn’t really have time like Orpheus meant, or at least that they hadn’t lately. Not with both of them working as often as they did. But as they said their “goodnights” and “I love you”s, and Eurydice felt her husband’s breathing slow, she didn’t want to think about what they didn’t have or what they still needed before the next winter. All of that would have to wait. She had food in the cupboard and her love in her arms. That was enough for now._

*** 

Orpheus slung his lyre over his shoulder along with the brown canvas knapsack he and Eurydice shared and prepared to leave the bar for the night. He patted his trouser pocket, ensuring his house key was there, and, in doing so, he felt the thick envelope tucked in safely beside it, filled with his earnings from the night.

“Thanks, Mr. Hermes!” He called out his usual goodbye as he headed for the front door. Across the bar, the other musicians were still packing up. After their set, Orpheus had gathered his belongings in a hurry, eager to get home to his wife.

“Now, hold on there a minute, Orpheus,” Hermes responded, walking away from where he had been talking to another patron to catch the poet before he left. “I should be thanking you. You really helped me out tonight, more than usual.”

Orpheus nodded quickly, staring down at his boots. He really wanted to get home. “Of course.”

Hermes’ brow furrowed and he looked more intently at Orpheus. “Something wrong, son?”

“I—just. I hope Eurydice isn’t too mad about me missing tonight,” he said, thinking about the note he left her. His hands flexed nervously at his sides. “I know she’s been worried about money, after paying for the wedding and all, and we’re working as hard as we can. But we always make time for our nights together. They’re really important to us.”

The god hummed, knowingly. The two lovers had both been working hard to replenish their savings, especially with another winter coming on. He’d scarcely seen them anywhere but the bar. “I’m sure she’ll understand. And that you’ll more than make it up to her.”

“Hermes, let the boy go home to his wife,” Persephone had sauntered over by now and wrapped an arm around the god’s shoulder, leaning on him, her voice husky. “There’s still time for you two to enjoy that bottle of wine.” She grinned and winked at the poet, clearly having enjoyed at least one bottle of wine herself. 

Orpheus blushed, eyes still on the ground. “Eurydice’s probably asleep by now; I told her not to wait up for me. The wine won’t go to waste, though. We’ll save it for our next night off together.” He hoped that would come sooner rather than later.

Persephone huffed, blowing a piece of loose hair out of her face. “Maybe I can convince Mr. Boss Man here to give you both a break,” she said and tipped her head towards Hermes.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, Orpheus.” Hermes said, somehow managing to stand completely straight despite the goddess hanging off of him. “I know spending time with each other is important to you and Eurydice.” Persephone narrowed her eyes at Hermes, as if to say, “duh.” He ignored her.

The poet raised his head, brow furrowed. Where was Hermes going with this?

The god continued: “You two have been working day in and day out to make a life for yourselves, and since you weren’t able to take much time off for your honeymoon, I think it’s high time you and your wife get a proper vacation.”

“Are you serious?” Orpheus rushed out, not quite able to believe what he was hearing.

Hermes smiled, “Sure am. In fact, don’t come in tomorrow. Or the next day, or the day after that. And don’t worry about missing a day’s pay, it’s all accounted for in what I gave you tonight.”

Orpheus hadn’t checked what Hermes had given him in the envelope, but he believed the god. He blinked rapidly, “Mr. Hermes—I don’t know what to say—thank you—I—"

“Hey,” Persephone interrupted, grabbing one of Orpheus’ shaking hands in her own and squeezing it, “And don’t you worry about me leaving too soon, either. I’m here for a few more weeks at least, and I’m gonna make sure y’all are left with plenty to make it through the winter time. Don’t you worry one bit.” She smiled, squeezing his fingers, and the poet felt that much more secure.

“Thank you,” he said again, breathless, hands coming up to grip the strap of his lyre to steady them. “You can’t know how much this means to me and Eurydice—”

“Oh, brother, I think I know the importance of extra time,” Persephone winked again and grinned.

Orpheus laughed slightly, looking between the pair, “Thank you both. I have to get home now; this is such good news that I might even wake her up just to tell her.” He was practically bouncing on his feet now.

“_Go_,” Persephone urged, peeling herself off of Hermes to shoo Orpheus towards the door. He laughed again.

“Thank you! Thank you, Mr. Hermes and Lady Persephone! We’ll be back in a few days—promise!” he called as he left, all but sprinting outside into the street.

Persephone turned and walked back towards. “Hmm, they’re cute,” she hummed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You remember being so young?”

“Not if I can help it, Sister,” Hermes replied. Giving the lovers some time off had been Persephone’s idea. She had a soft spot for them and was always badgering Hermes not to work them too hard. Hermes hadn’t really considered it before, always happy to have more help at the bar, especially during the busy Spring and Summer months. Besides, Orpheus had worked there since he was a teenager, and the long hours had never been a problem before. But he supposed Orpheus and Eurydice deserved some time to themselves without having to agonize over missing out on a much-needed paycheck. He felt a pang in his chest, remembering what happened last time the pair fell on hard times. Things were different now, Hermes assured himself. Things were right.

“Hard to believe I raised that boy,” he said, thoughtfully, “Seems like just yesterday he was lifting his arms in the air, demanding ‘Up, up!’” the god gestured with his hands, then asked, “You remember?”

Persephone threw her head back and laughed, “Sure do! Wouldn’t fall asleep unless someone was holding him.” She leaned into Hermes’ side again, resting her head on his shoulder, and paused for a moment. Then, she sighed, “I’m glad they’re okay.”

Hermes heaved a sigh, too. If he were a more affectionate man, he’d have put an arm around her. Instead, still looking at the door Orpheus had left from, he said simply, “Me too, Sister. Me too.”

*** 

Orpheus wasn’t quite sure what awaited him at home, but seeing his wife curled up on the center of their floor, cradling Persephone’s (now empty) bottle of wine to her chest, his notebook in her hand, was certainly not what he expected.

“Eurydice!” he exclaimed, quickly setting down his lyre and their knapsack and crossing the room to kneel by her side. “Eurydice, are you alright?”

She made a noise that indicated to him she was awake and stirred from her spot on the rug, “Huh? Orpheus?”

“Yes, it’s me. Are you alright?” he repeated.

“Hmmm `m fine,” she mumbled. It all came out as one word. Orpheus didn’t need to work at a bar to know she was definitely drunk. Normally, Eurydice could hold her liquor, but wine from Persephone was a different matter.

He helped her sit up, steadying her against him as they both sat on the floor side by side with one of his arms around her waist. Her head rested on his shoulder, and Orpheus lifted her face with his opposite hand, trying to get her to look up at him. “Eurydice, oh, Love, what happened?" 

“Saw your note,” she paused, her head lolling to the side for a moment, blinking, “Didn’t wanna waste the wine… drank the wine,” she held up the bottle in front of them, and looked slightly surprised, “...all the wine.”

Orpheus took it from her and set it aside, returning his attention to his wife. “Eurydice, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. It’s my fault—I—I didn’t—"

“N-no… no,” Eurydice waved her finger at him as she tried to sit up straighter, but just ended up leaning on him more, “`s my decision.” 

Orpheus sighed, cradling her face in his hand. “Do you feel alright? Do you feel sick?” He kicked himself as soon as he said it. _No way she felt alright; just look at her._

Eurydice shook her head and hiccupped. “Better’n I was. C’n we… can we go to bed?”

“Of course,” he said, helping her up. After she had gotten to her feet, she stumbled into the bed herself, throwing the covers back and crawling inside. In the meantime, Orpheus undressed and filled up one of their mugs with water for Eurydice.

“Here,” he said, handing the mug to his wife, who gulped down half of it. She seemed to be sobering up and might have actually been more sleepy than drunk when Orpheus got home. Persephone’s wine hit hard and fast but left you tired if you didn’t keep drinking and dancing. That was a good thing, mostly for Eurydice’s sake, but also because Orpheus knew there was a conversation they couldn’t have until she was at least partially lucid.

Orpheus, having stripped out of his work clothes, joined his wife in their bed. Eurydice placed the mug in her lap, having finished most of the water, and leaned her head against Orpheus’ shoulder.

“`M sorry,” she mumbled after a bit of time, tracing her fingers around the ceramic rim. “I was upset. I jus’… Date Night is special, y’know? And it feels like nothing’s been easy lately. And I miss you.” Eurydice set the mug aside to take her poet’s hand. “I miss this. Us, alone.”

Orpheus felt tears spring into his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry too, Eurydice. I broke a promise to you, I said I would be home and I wasn’t. I… I thought I was doing the right thing by working tonight. I thought it would help us. You have every right to be mad. I didn’t know that you would…” he trailed off. Eurydice was silent, waiting for him to continue.

He took a breath, the hand his wife wasn’t holding beginning to shake nervously. Finally, he said, “I don’t want us to have to worry about money. And… I know sometimes you steal from the market and I know you haven’t returned your wedding dress and I know you count what we make every single night,” Orpheus swallowed hard, “You deserve the world, Eurydice, and it should just be given to you. You shouldn’t have to take it.”

Eurydice started to speak, but then stopped. Orpheus was right. She didn’t realize how much her fretting affected him, how much he worried, just like she did. He had broken his promise, even if he thought he was doing something good for them both, but she couldn’t be that upset with him. This was a conversation they were bound to have, sooner or later, and it was one they would probably have again. As long as the memory of Hadestown plagued them both, they would continue to be haunted by the fear of not being enough for the other. The most they could do would be to remind each other that that wasn’t true.

“Orpheus,” Eurydice said at last, her voice steadier, more sober, “I don’t need the world. Right now, I feel like I only see you at work or right before bed or early in the morning an’… I don’t want that. I wanna go to the market together, to the forest, I wanna spend all my nights with you. I wanna spend my life _with you_, Orpheus. To make it our life _together_, not yours and mine apart.”

Orpheus sat them both up so he could look into her eyes. Eurydice saw that a few tears had slipped down his cheek, and she dabbed at them with the sleeve of the thin sweater she sometimes wore to bed. She continued, “I love what we’ve built here. I only wish we got to enjoy it more together." 

There was more she wanted to say, but Orpheus pulled her into a tight embrace, which was probably for the best.

“You. That’s all I need. Okay?” Eurydice whispered, words slightly muffled in his shirt.

Sniffling and wiping his nose, he nodded. “Okay.”

Startling slightly as if he’d suddenly remembered something, Orpheus pulled back quickly and said, “Oh—I think there is something that might make all of this worth it.” He leaned over his side of the bed, where his trousers still laid on the floor, and plucked the envelope Hermes had given him earlier from the pocket.

Eurydice looked confused at first as he handed it to her, but her expression quickly turned to one of awe as she saw the cash stuffed inside, which was far more than either of them were used to holding at one time.

“I counted it on the way home, just to make sure.” Orpheus said as Eurydice flipped through the bills, her jaw hanging open. “It’s the extra money I made tonight, plus at least two day’s pay for both of us, maybe more. Mr. Hermes told me not to bother coming in tomorrow, or the next day. I figure we could spend at least one of those days tending to the garden, maybe stocking up on extra food, and the other…” he grinned, “We could have just for ourselves—”

She cut him off with a kiss, then, dropping the envelope between them so she could hold his face in her hands.

“Gods, now you’re the practical one,” she mumbled against lips when they broke apart.

Orpheus smiled, and replied, “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Hmm, I like the sound of that,” she hummed, “rubbing off on—"

“Eurydice!” he laughed, catching the double meaning in her words. “Are sure you’re not still drunk?”

Eurydice pulled back and sighed, “Unfortunately, no.” She rubbed her forehead, already feeling the first signs of her inevitable hangover. She then went to settle back against Orpheus, who wrapped his arms around her.

“Good thing we have tomorrow off,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. She hummed in agreement and closed her eyes.

They lay like that for a few moments, Orpheus running his fingertips over Eurydice’s arms and shoulder while she inched closer to sleep. Before she could get there, however, Orpheus said, “Remember when we used to dance at Lady Persephone’s parties, back before… well, a while ago?”

Eurydice opened her eyes slightly and smiled. “Yeah, I was just thinkin’ about that earlier, actually.” She paused for a moment, then whispered, “Gods, I was so in love with you then." 

Orpheus raised his eyebrows, “You were? Really?”

“Yeah, I know it didn’t seem like it, but…” she sighed, "I was. Really badly, too. Jus’ couldn’t admit it to myself yet." 

“I had no idea,” he said, blinking.

“Well, now you do. Now you know all my secrets,” she teased, reaching up to tap his forehead without looking, almost poking him in the eye. Orpheus laughed, and she felt his chest vibrate against her cheek. It felt like home.

Orpheus heaved a sigh, both of relief and exhaustion. He and Eurydice were safe, they were together, and they were going to survive the winter. He silently thanked Mr. Hermes and Lady Persephone and whatever other cosmic forces that had come together to give him what had seemed almost impossible a year ago. Things weren’t perfect, but they were good enough that it still didn’t feel real sometimes. Now, however, holding his wife in his arms in the bed they shared, in the home they’d made together, he could believe it.

“So, Poet.” Eurydice said, drawing him out of his thoughts. She traced lazy circles on his chest as she spoke, “You wanna tell me about that new song you’re workin’ on?”

Orpheus sounded confused for a moment, “New song… Did you look through my notebook?” She couldn’t see his face, but Eurydice could hear the sly smile in his voice. She knew he wouldn’t mind.

“Hmm yeah, hope that’s okay. I got bored readin’ an’… I saw you were working on something.”

“Oh! The last one? That’s something I’ve been writing when things are slow at the bar,” Orpheus explained, “Started out as a poem but I’ve been adding a melody. Think it’ll work better as a song.” 

“Is it about me?” she asked, giggling. 

“Yeah,” he smiled shyly. “I was actually gonna play it for you tonight, before Mr. Hermes asked me to come in and all.”

So, he’d been planning this for at least a few days. Eurydice felt her heart swell. “Hmm, sing it for me now?”

Orpheus brushed some of her hair off of her cheek and tucked it behind her ear, “Of course.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll always sing for you, Eurydice.” 

_I know_, she thought, but was silent as he started to hum what she assumed was the melody he’d written to accompany the song.

Eurydice closed her eyes. She was asleep before the first chorus ended, and for once, she didn’t dream about trains or fates or empty stomachs. Instead, Eurydice saw her and her lover in an endless field, hand in hand, side by side. They had time, money, and, _thank the gods_, they had each other. And that, she thought, was more than enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> wow props if you made it through all of that and bless my beta for editing!!
> 
> this started off as like 4 separate ideas that were going to be one-shots but had similar enough themes that i just threw em together into one fic. i tend to write the same stuff over and over again lmao. i hope it worked????
> 
> @dreyfvs/@passionslipsaway on tumblr


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